


Calm down, Ursula

by Elizandre



Series: Tropevember! [17]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 30 Days of Writing, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Everyone Loves Stiles Stilinski, Female Stiles Stilinski, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Good Peter Hale, LITERALLY, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Protective Peter Hale, Tropes, Tropevember, Wolfnip Stiles, tropevember challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizandre/pseuds/Elizandre
Summary: It’s just Stiles’ luck that he would get cursed by the evil disney villain wannabe.I mean, seriously? Cursing him to turn into a girl and the only cure is ‘True Loves Kiss?’He’d rather have been turned into a mermaid, thanks.(Written for Tropevember 2020, Day 16: Genderswap)
Relationships: Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Tropevember! [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995202
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	Calm down, Ursula

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one shot... oops?
> 
> I just love writing Stiles so much and this is 100% the stupid kind of shenanigans that he would get himself into.
> 
> Also I’m steter trash; sue me.
> 
> Xoxo

Sight blurred and head pounding, Stiles slowly comes to consciousness on the muddy floor of the preserve - a feeling he has become intimately familiar with over the past couple of years. 

Groaning out, he turns his head, trying to spot a member of the pack, or a familiar landmark to tell him where abouts in the preserve he might be. Looking around, nothing screams out to him, so he gingerly pushes himself up, wincing when the weight causes his wrist to flare up in painful protest. Sitting upright fully, he cradles the hand to his chest, long, slender fingers probing at the joint worriedly, hissing when he hits another painful spot.

Not broken, but definitely sprained, he thinks with a sigh. Derek is gonna kill him and Scott will probably get all ‘protective alpha wolf’ again like he does whenever Stiles gets even a scrape.

The two have come a long way since that awful night in the woods when Scott was bitten; for one Stiles now has a decent amount of control over his ‘spark’, making him less of a liability in battle, along with some handy self-defence lessons from both his father and the pack. Another thing that has changed is that the pack has finally come to accept that he is fragile - something he himself was loathe to admit for a very long time.

It was actually their resident resurrected zombie wolf that started the ‘Stiles protection squad’ as Erica has so lovingly dubbed it, the elder wolf stepping in during pack rough housing, taking extra care with first aid after fighting their monster of the month, and generally making sure that the pack human was always safe and cared for - and that the pack were aware of how their strength could hurt him, as it so often did back in the day...

So yeah. Scott will no doubt have an aneurism over the sprain when Stiles eventually manages to locate his pack again.

Wincing as he shifts his weight, he settles back against the tree trunk next to him, waiting for the black spots crowding his vision to fade. When they do, he gives the space around him another cursory glance, trying to find any clues as to what happened to him.

Please don’t tell me I tripped over my own feet and managed to knock myself out AGAIN, he prays, eyes scanning the forest floor for any signs of magic or combat.

He doesn’t have to look very far before his eyes snag on a dark, charred patch of ground, not far from his feet - exactly where his feet would have been before he fell.

Okay, so that means magic—

Memories flood his mind at the sight of the charred ground and he grabs his head in panic, cringing at the sudden onslaught of sound and colour.

Shit... shit, SHIT, SHIT!!!

He remembers now... he was out on his own, scanning the preserve for the dark witch that had been leaving runes and markings in the trees for him, challenging his spark every time he came across and destroyed one of them. 

Of course the pack aren’t around, since he didn’t tell them that he was going out in the first place.

Stupid Stiles, he berates himself, knocking his head against the trunk behind him slowly, ignoring the pain it sends shooting through his temples.

No matter how many times he goes out into the woods alone and something bad happens; he never learns his lesson!

At least the witch won’t be bothering them anymore he thinks with mirth, eyeing a patch of pinkish goo a couple of feet away from the charred ground. His spark is good for many things, including warding himself against magical attacks when he’s unconscious - a necessity after the Nogitsune. He wouldn’t be surprised to find out that she had tried to attack him once he was knocked out, only to find herself vaporised...

She certainly wouldn’t be the first monster it’s happened to. 

Wracking his brain, tumbling through the memories that are still coming back to him, he pauses when he comes to something relevant, feeling the blood draining from his face as he voices his sentiments from before out loud.

“Shit—” a pause... then, “shit. What the shit? What the fuck? Is that— what is going on?!” He squeaks out in a voice that is similar to his own in accent and tone, but a much higher - MUCH GIRLIER - pitch.

What was it that damn witch said?!

‘Only true loves kiss will break the curse... good look finding your true love when everyone wants a piece of you!’

Who did this bitch think she was, Ursula?!

Groaning as he pulls himself up, using the tree beside him - which he gives a little pat of thanks - he winces when his girlish sounding voice leaves his throat again.

Oh god, am I Ariel? I mean, I haven’t grown a tail or any other body... parts...

He pauses, staring down at two prominent body parts he MOST CERTAINLY didn’t have before he came witch hunting. Lifting a finger, he gently prods at the mound on his chest, before pulling back with a small hum of confusion.

Are you seriously telling me she...

Reaching up to scratch at his head in befuddlement, he yanks his hand back quickly as it gets stuck in the thick, long hair that - with a second feel - he can tell is matted down to his mid-back. Add that to a significant lack of SOMETHING in the downstairs department and—

Holy smokes... I’m a girl... SHE TURNED ME INTO A FUCKING WOMAN!

Digging in his pockets, he miraculously finds his unfried and still alive phone - which tells him the time is 4 hours later than when he left the pack house, but that’s not his concern right now - and unlocks the camera, turning it and the flash onto his face.

Yep. He’s a woman alright!

It’s definitely still his face, that much he knows for sure, but it’s... slimmer? Daintier? His nose is even more upturned and his lips more pouty, along with his customary plethora of beauty marks and amber eyes... it’s definitely him, alright.

Him? Her? What?!

God this is too much to even think about right now.

Turning his flash from the front camera to the back, he - she? FUCK! - heads off into the woods, remembering now which way he ran from the witch, slowly navigating his way back to the rebuilt Hale house, which would normall be a 30 minute walk away, but with his sprained wrist and a possible - read: definite - concussion, takes closer to 50.

Seeing the house through the trees, he grins in relief... only to frown when he sees that all the lights seem to be on inside.

Well... looks like the pack realised he was gone sometime between now and 30 minutes ago when his phone DID die - he’s terrible at charging the thing, alright? Sue him!

Wobbling out of the tree line, he puts his good hand to his mouth and lets out a three-toned whistle. Everyone in the pack has a whistle in different tones that is solely their’s, which they can use if they are in danger, or simply just returning home. Either way, he figured with the way he looks right now, using his whistle was his best bet not to get torn to shreds instantly.

Not 5 seconds later the back door bursts open and Scott comes barrelling out, closely followed by Erica and Isaac, only for all three of them to stop short at the sight of him, freezing about 10 feet away.

“Oh, come on! I know I have tits now and stuff, but it’s CLEARLY still me! Don’t just stand there!” He huffs, the pain in his head and wrist throbbing after close to an hour trekking back through the woods. 

“Stiles...?” Scott whispers, head tilting to the side in a decidedly canine way.

“Uh— yeah?! Unless you know anyone else with this many goddamn moles!” He complains, knowing that he always whines about the marks and it will be another sign that it’s truly him.

Shallow gasps come from behind the three as more of the pack come pouring out of the house, all of the wolves stopping at the sight of him in the same way Scott, Erica and Isaac had... well, apart from Peter who is walking closer with a calculating head tilt of his own.

“Stiles?” Kira asks hesitantly, sending him a cautious smile.

He wants to roll his eyes, because duh! Who else would it be? But he refrains because it’s sweet Kira, choosing to nod enthusiastically instead.

“What the hell happened?” Lydia snaps, moving into action to brush past the frozen wolves, heading in Stiles’ direction, for which he is grateful, because their behaviour is starting to freak him out.

“Dark witch who likes Disney films too much cursed me to be a woman or some shit. I don’t really know - pretty sure I’m concussed,” he rambles, sending her a patented ‘awkward Stilinski shrug’.

Sighing at his antics - because honestly? Him being turned into a woman isn’t the weirdest thing to ever happen - she continues to glide towards him with her ‘thinking face’ on when suddenly the trio in front of him start growling menacingly.

Jumping in shock, he expects them to be growling at him, but their eyes are trained away from him, hackles raised as they stand protectively between he and Peter, who is now backing away with wide eyes and upturned palms. 

“Mine!” They all growl out simultaneously, only to freeze, before turning on each other, eyes and fangs flashing menacingly. 

“Uh... guys?” He calls out warily, only to flinch in surprise when they all stop growling and turn to him with gooey eyes.

“Yes, love?” Isaac asks, which sets Scott and Erica away growling again, along with the other wolves in the vicinity.

“Love?!” He squeaks, sending Isaac a panicked glance. Did the witch get to him too? And what’s with all the alpha wolf posturing? I thought we got over this... years... ago...

Scanning the pack, his eyes widen as he calls out to Lydia. “It’s only the wolves that are acting strange! When the witch cursed me— she said something! Something about ‘everyone wanting a piece of me?!’ I don’t know!”

Quick to catch on, her eyes narrow in thought. “It could be a hormonal thing - wolves are all about scent. With you being female now... the curse could be about making more than just your body appealing” - “Hey! I’m always appealing!” - “but making you appealing to wolves too?”

“So... like werewolf catnip?” A deep voice pipes up from the sidelines, making Lydia and Stiles turn in surprise.

“You... aren’t affected?” Stiles asks.

“Mmm, nope. Can’t say I’m feeling the urge to growl at the others over you, or whatever is happening right now,” he quips, waving a hand carelessly though the air.

“Great! You can take Stiles with you then,” Lydia says with finality, stomping past the werewolves who don’t pay her any notice, to tug on his arm. “If Peter is right - which I sadly think he is - and you ARE werewolf catnip, then we need to get you away from the others till we get this fixed.”

“Okay... but why can’t I stay with you?” He asks in confusion.

“Because I’m not kicking Jackson out and you two can’t be in the same apartment right now,” she explains, quickly pulling him across to where Peter is, eyeing the still growling werewolves warily. “He lives on his own, he isn’t affected, and he’s also a wolf - if the others somehow manage to discover his address, then he will be capable of fighting them off in a way that the humans in the pack can’t.”

“You’re picking Jackson over me?” He mumbles in a huff. 

“He’s my boyfriend and mate - of course I am, Stiles. Get a grip.” She says, handing him over to Peter who confidently wraps a firm arm around his shoulders.

Apparently that broke the spell the other wolves were under as they turn in unison to snarl at Peter, beta shift coming over some of them.

Well that’s not good!

Peter’s body tenses with anticipation for the upcoming fight, manoeuvring Stiles behind him smoothly as his claws unsheathe.

And Stiles? Stiles does what Stiles does best.

He talks.

“Oh no! No no no! Bad dogs! No more growling! STAY! Peter is good! No attacking Peter, even though you might want to!” He rambles and surprisingly... it works.

They all halt at his words, eyes wide and eager to please... huh. Werewolf catnip... cool.

“Okay... that’s good! Now - you guys just stay there and don’t growl at each other, okay! I’m gonna go somewhere safe and I’ll see you all... soon?” He says hesitantly, slowly backing away from the once frenzied group of wolves, who are all now staring at him like he’s hung the moon.

Not touching Peter, he gives an impatient ‘shoo’ motion towards the front of the house, where he knows Peter’s car is.

Getting the memo, the zombie wolf runs off, the sound of an ignition seeming like a gunshot in the now silent woods.

Edging ever closer to his escape route, he hesitantly calls out, “Lydia?” Keeping his eyes firmly trained on the wolves.

“I’ll look into it,” she says firmly. “And keep you updated. Who knows, maybe once you’re out of the vicinity they’ll...”

“Return back to normal? I fucking hope so, otherwise this is going to suck balls till I get it fixed.”

Following him around the side of the house, his feet touch crunch on gravel as he slowly makes his way towards where he can hear an engine rumbling, hand outstretched behind him, the wolves watching on in dopey happiness... it’s so fucking creepy, Stiles decides.

Finally feeling thrumming metal under his hand, he makes his way to the passengers door, pointing a stern finger at the gathered wolves as he says, “stay! Behave! No biting or clawing!” In his best ‘bad dog’ voice.

Climbing into the car, he’s relieved to see that peter has rolled the window down so he doesn’t have to break eye contact with the wolves. He’s getting ready to tell the elder wolf to ‘hit it’ like in all of those cool action movies, when Lydia calls out, “hey stiles!”

“Yeah?”

“Did the witch say anything else about the curse besides ‘they’ll all want a piece of you?’” She asks and Stiles finds himself bursting into nearly hysterical laughter as he nods.

“Yep! Yeah, she did!” He giggles, his concussion really starting to take its toll.

“... Well?!” She huffs impatiently.

“She— she SAID,” he chokes out between chuckles. “That the curse can only be broken by true loves kiss!” He bursts out, tears starting to stream down his face at the absurdity of it all. Waiting to see if Lydia will respond to that at all, he hears nothing but silence, which he takes as his cue to fumble around beside him to pat Peter’s thigh as he shouts, “HIT IT!” and they peal out of the reserve.


End file.
